100 Words Challenge, Rent Style
by Julia in Reverse
Summary: A series of mostly one-sided MarkXRoger drabbles done for 100 Words Challenge. Rating may change later.
1. Fingers

So, I've decided to try out doing a 100 Word Challenge! Woohoo! My pairing for this is a MarkXRoger, because you cannot possibly deny that Mark is absolutely and totally in love with Roger. You know it's true. These will be mostly one-sided angsty fics, and I'll try to keep them in chronological order, but depending on the prompts, that may change. I'm also going to post them in a couple of separate stories, so that I don't end up with one story a hundred chapters long. XD I hope you enjoy!

Prompt One: Fingers

Fingers

Fingers.

It's a strange obsession, I know. So strange, in fact, that even _I_ couldn't tell you why I love them so much.

Although, to be fair, I don't obsess over just _any_ fingers. They're his fingers.

Roger's fingers.

The way they caress the neck of his guitar. The way they tenderly pluck the strings. The graceful way they drag through his hair when he shoves it out of his face as he's thinking.

The sight is enticing, hypnotic. Some days I sit for hours, secretly watching his nimble fingers work their magic, and I can't help but imagine what it would be like to have them touching _me_ the way they do that guitar; trailing lovingly down my throat, ghosting over my arms and chest, carding softly through my hair.

The thought gives me shivers, and…has certain other effects as well. As soon as I realize what's happening, I wrench myself back to reality and scold myself for being so ridiculous. Roger loves Mimi; not me, his pathetic little roommate. I'm just his best friend, nothing more, and that's how it's inevitably going to stay.

Even so, I can't help but lose myself in these silly daydreams about Roger and his long, beautiful, dexterous fingers.


	2. Bad

Prompt Two: Bad

Bad, Bad, Bad

Sometimes I hate Mimi. She's such a bad influence on Roger. I know he likes to believe that the rehab's working; that she's kicked her addiction. But I know better.

I had to deal with _his_ not-so-distant withdrawal, so I know first hand that it takes a lot more than a simple, "Oh, I promise, I'll stay clean; for real this time," to kick your habits. Fuck, _he_ should know it too! Not only did he do the same thing I know she's doing – that is, sneaking drugs on the sly – but he's seen her do it! When they first started dating in that whole on again off again merry-go-round that they had going before he left for Santa Fe and she disappeared, her sneaking drugs was why they were often times "off again."

And with the drugs so close to him, practically right under his nose, I'm afraid he may relapse again. If that happens, I'll never forgive her.

Oh, and then there's that whole she's a stripper thing. You can't get much worse than that. Strippers are _bad news_. I mean, she's taking her clothes off in front of strange men all night, and I'm sure not all of them are creepy old men. I'm sure there are a bunch of good-looking younger guys too. Who's to say she's being faithful? And, girls who aren't faithful? _Bad_.

Roger needs someone who isn't bad. He needs someone who'll keep him clean, and who won't go do things behind his back; someone who'll be faithful to him, no questions asked. He needs the exact opposite of Mimi. Meaning me. He needs _me_. _I'm_ the one Roger should be with, not that stupid girl.

Granted, I guess that's part of her appeal; that she's bad, I mean. Guys like Roger like girls like Mimi. You know, girls who are gorgeous and dangerous, and, well, bad. They like the mystery, the risk. What they _don't_ like are guys like me; boring, predictable, safe. That's why I'll never have a chance with him.

But, that won't stop me from thinking that Mimi is bad for him. Really, really bad.


	3. Intelligence

Prompt Three: Intelligence

Intelligence; Or Lack Thereof

I'm not usually what I consider a proud person, but one thing I do take pride in is my intelligence. I've always been exceedingly smart; when it comes to academics, at least. I was always top of the class in school; I never failed a test in my life. Socially, however, my intelligence is rather…lacking.

In personal relationships, whether romantic or simply friendly, I've never been smart. I've never been good at dealing with people, especially those I have feelings for. This means, I'm constantly making a fool of myself, and hoping that no one notices.

Normally my social fuck ups fly under the radar, but recently Roger's begun to notice some of my mistakes, and called me out on them. I don't know why, but lately it's been really hard to be around him and keep my feelings in check. The last thing I need is for him to figure out how I feel, and then have things become awkward between us. I mean, as much as I hate seeing him with Mimi, I'm still _seeing_ him; if he found out, he'd probably not want to hang out anymore, and I don't know if I could handle that.

In fact, I fucked up so badly the other night that I was certain he'd make the connection, but so far, nothing's happened.

It was close to midnight, and I was returning from a shitty date with a girl Maureen had set me up with. She – Maureen, I mean – had told me I needed to get some, but unfortunately, her pick wasn't really going to help in that department. Ever since I figured out how I feel about Roger, women just don't do it for me anymore.

Anyway, I was just getting home, and I was in an awful mood, so I was happy to see that there was no light from inside the loft. I wasn't exactly in the mood to see Roger. I unlocked the door, and stepped inside setting my bike down and removing my scarf and coat.

As my eyes adjusted to the moonlight streaming through the windows, I saw Roger in the living room area, dead asleep, and the sight stopped me dead in my tracks. He was splayed out across the couch, guitar still clutched in his arms, and fully clothed. His golden hair practically glowed, his face was calm and peaceful, and his chest moved steadily up and down as he took deep, even breaths. The sight of it was one of the most beautiful I've ever seen.

Quietly as I could, so as not to wake him, I crept into the kitchen and set my keys on the table, and, forcing myself not to look back over at him, I made my way to my room. And I would have made it there, too, if my resolve hadn't weakened, making me look back to the sleeping man on the couch.

"Fuck," I breathed almost inaudibly, before walking over. Ever so gently, I pried the guitar from his grasp, and set it on the chair. Then I went into his room and grabbed a pillow and his blanket, and brought them out for him.

Carefully, I lifted his head, placed the pillow behind it, and set it back down, making sure not to think about what I was doing too much. I slipped his shoes off, adjusted his position so that in the morning he wouldn't be stiff, and set the blanket over him, all miraculously without waking him up. I would have been home free then, too, if I'd've just gone to bed, but instead I paused.

I watched his chest rise and fall softly, and the way the moonlight hit his face, highlighting the contours of his cheek bones and the cleft in his chin that was so prominent when he smiled. It was then that I sealed my doom.

I reached out and touched him. I let my fingers gently caress his face, and smooth his hair, and it was then that his eyes fluttered open.

"Mark?" he asked groggily.

I jumped back, yanking my hand away from him as if it had been burned. "R-Roger!"

"When did you get back?" he said, yawning and sitting up.

"J-just now," I said, continuing to back away. "I'm sorry to wake you." I could feel my face flaming, and knew that he could probably see it, even in the dark.

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. And, uh, thanks for this," he added, gesturing to the pillow and blanket.

"Oh, well, I, uh, know how much you bitch and moan when you're sore, so I thought I'd try and prevent it from happening," I said, trying to sound like everything was normal, and he hadn't just caught me practically molesting him. "For my benefit as much as yours."

He laughed. "Yeah, thanks," he said again.

"Well, I'm going to, uh, go to bed," I said, retreating as quickly as possible while still trying to act normal.

"Hey, wait!" he said as I reached my door. I almost flinched, and reluctantly, turned around.

"Yeah?"

"How was your date?" he asked, grinning.

_Horrible, shitty, the worst I've ever been on. You know why? Because it wasn't you!_ "Oh, it was, uh…"

Roger chuckled. "That bad, eh?"

I gave a sheepish smile. "Kind of."

"Well, I wouldn't sweat it. _Maureen_ set you two up, after all."

"Yeah, I wasn't expecting much."

He grinned again. "Go get some sleep. You look like shit."

I nodded. "Night," I said before gratefully slipping into my room.

Sighing, I sunk to the floor and placed my head on my knees.

_Why am I so stupid?_


	4. Announce

Prompt Four: Announce

Bittersweet Announcement

It was announced yesterday. Maureen and Joanne are getting married; for real this time.

My first reaction was to laugh. Not out loud, of course, but on the inside, I wanted to die laughing. Because this whole scenario went _oh so well_ the last time we tried it.

Granted, that was before Angel passed away, and Roger left and came back, and Mimi almost died. Since then, I think we've all grown up…a lot. And, when I realized that, my amusement soured, and I began to feel like shit again.

Everyone's moving forward. Collins has gotten a good job teaching at NYU, something that we all scoffed at before, but that has really worked out well for him. Maureen and Joanne are getting married. Roger and Mimi are getting more serious by the hour, and his inspiration has been working overtime.

As for me, I've got my Buzzline thing, but that's really not much. I'm still pining over a man I can't have, working at a shitty job, and still wanting to make something _real_ of myself. My whole situation just blows.

Another thing about the announcement that scared me was the effect it would have on Roger. As I just said, he and Mimi are getting more and more serious every day, and, with this wedding, I'm afraid it will give him…ideas. If he and Mimi get married, I don't know what I'll do. Even the thought of it is like a knife through my chest.

Who'd've thought an announcement about something that's supposed to be so happy, could cause so much fucking misery.


	5. Day

Prompt Five: Day

Christmas Day

Well, Christmas is here. Again.

Just about every normal person loves this holiday, except for me, that is. I _used_ to be one of them, those Christmas enthusiasts, but now I find myself dreading this day more than any other of the year. Everything goes wrong for me on Christmas, it seems.

Two years ago, I found out Roger and Mimi had met, and encouraged their friendship. I'd hoped that she'd be able to bring the old Roger back.

Oops. My mistake.

The old Roger came back, that's for sure, but he came with another girlfriend I can't compete with.

Last year, Mimi almost died, and despite my occasional (okay, _more_ than occasional) resentment toward her, I can't deny that she's become a good friend of mine, and I'd feel her loss as much as any of the others.

This year, I walk into the loft to find Roger and Mimi fucking on the couch. Quickly, I turned and closed the door again. I don't know if they saw me, but I sure as hell hope not.

So, now I'm sitting on a bench in Central Park, alone, hungry, frozen, and miserable on Christmas Day. "Merry fucking Christmas, Mark. This is what you get for lusting over your best friend."

After all of that, I think I'm entitled to hate Christmas, don't you? Next year, I think I'm going to just skip this stupid holiday; spend the entire day in bed. I mean, I know I shouldn't waste my life, "No day but today," and all that, but I really don't think that skipping the one day every year that entirely fucks up my life is going to hurt me. In fact, that might actually make it better! At least I can only hope so.

I hate Christmas.


End file.
